


I Have To Hurry

by UselessDreamer



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Ghosts, I cried writing it, M/M, Minor Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens, i dont know what to tag this with, i hope you cry, lams for a moment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 11:07:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11622282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UselessDreamer/pseuds/UselessDreamer
Summary: Ghost Philip doing what he has to do to pass on.I don't know how to summarize it either wow. Please give it a shot..? Or not, it's okay





	I Have To Hurry

Passing on was easier said than done. Philip didn’t know why he was still wandering with the living especially since it had been a little over a month since he died, six weeks if one was to ask his father Alexander. While the recently passed son didn’t know why he was there, he knew he was being drawn somewhere. 

This somewhere he didn’t recognize. The houses weren’t cramped together, there was a lot of space between each. The house in particular he was being drawn to had a modest beauty to it, a neutral toned two story surrounded by beautiful flowers and plants. It wasn’t his home and the area around it was quiet... So why did he feel the need to be here? 

A woman walked out of the house Philip was intently watching and the boy had half the mind to hide before remembering he couldn’t be seen. He slowly stepped closer to the woman, slowly trying to decipher who she was.

‘Sept, Huit, Neuf’

The last voice he heard alive sang sweetly through his mind. He froze. His mother, how could he not recognize his mother? Philip knew he couldn’t be seen or felt but that didn’t stop him from gently reaching out and cupping the woman’s cheek. 

“Ma...” His voice was carried through the wind, not even capable of sounding like a voice. Eliza scratched her cheek where her son’s hand was but of course, she didn’t quite know it was there in the first place. She walked on, straight through Philip. His heart shattered. Something was telling him she wasn’t who he was here for but that didn’t stop him from wanting to tell her he loved her one last time. 

With a heavy feeling in his chest, Philip moved on into the home. It was quiet. Too quiet. Why was his mother here? Why- 

The familiar sound of a quill scratching paper sounded, oddly loud in the quiet house. This was all too odd but he knew that sound. Alexander. Father to him. Philip ran to where the pen sounded and burst into a room, the door opening slightly with his actions and a gust of wind following. This barely resulted in a glance from the Treasurer hard at work.

“Pops.” Philip called, his voice sounding strange to him. It was the first time his energy let part of him become apparent to the real world. It was also the first time Alexander put down his pen all day. The voice was wavered and disembodied but Alexander knew his son’s voice when he heard it. 

The immigrant’s head quickly looked about the room before he looked back down. “Just your imagination, Alexander.” He reminded himself out loud. His pen scratched at the paper he was writing reasonably faster, work was how he coped. How he distracted himself. 

“Pops, it’s me, Philip!” The son called louder this time and quickly looked around. He moved to the shadows of the room and used his energy to make his body apparent to the real world. His body was transparent but it wasn’t like that mattered. Alexander rubbed his eyes and groaned. 

“I need a break.” He muttered and leaned back in his seat. It was obvious that Alexander thought he was going crazy or something and Philip wasn’t having it. The ghost of the son quickly moved forward and swiped the papers off the table.

“Dad!”

“Fuck!” 

Alexander looked up and blinked, brows furrowing. “Philip…?” His expression went from furrowed to eyes blown wide. 

“Nah shit.”

“Watch your mouth.”

“Sorry... Wait you just-” Philip stopped when he noticed his dad’s shocked face was still there. “Hi dad.” He smiled. Alexander stared for a moment and reached out to touch his son but pulled his hand back, afraid he wouldn’t be able to hold the boy. Despite Philip being 19, an adult basically, he’d always be Alexander’s boy.

“Pip…” Alexander put a hand over his mouth, still not completely sure he was even conscious. Had he fallen asleep working? Or could he actually be...

Philip hopped up on his dad’s desk with a smile. “I have to hurry dad- But yeah I’m here. Uncle Laurens told me you’d react this way. Shocked and unbelieving-“

“Laurens? John Laurens?” Alexander slowly pulled his hand down, a little dumbfounded but still ready to listen. Philip nodded. 

He took a breath ready to start explaining. “Uncle Laurens said you were one of the reasons he passed on! Which is what I’m trying to do but I gotta tell you some stuff first. I guess before he got shot and killed, you sent him a letter but he never got to read it. He did though! Just... in this form.” He gestured to his ghostly body. 

That seemed to take Alexander’s breath away. “He- they said it was never opened.” He furrowed his brow’s skeptically. 

“Cold in my professions, warm in my friendships, I wish, my Dear Laurens, it might be in my power, by action rather than words-“ Philip began to show off his memory skills but was quickly cut off.  
“That’s enough of that.” Alexander stopped his son, a flush ever so present on his cheeks. Philip gave a knowing grin but let it slide. Hey, whatever made his dad happy, who cared about the gender or the resemblance Philip share with the other passed man. “I’m glad I was of use to him.” He admitted with a sad smile, missing his friend. There was a pause before he spoke up again. “Uncle Laurens?”

“He wanted me to call him that.”

“Of course.” Alexander let out a soft but sad laugh, falling into silence.

Philip let a silence wash over them. A silence that never would’ve happened at his old home.

“I met grandma.” He spoke up after a moment, this information making Alexander freeze. He never forgot his mother, she was a beauty he’d often tell the boy about. “You were right, she’s beautiful.” He continued when there was no response. “Nice too, she’s hella proud of you, dad! She said she couldn’t have asked for anything more.” Alexander felt a tear slide down his cheek but he quickly pushed it away. 

Before he could speak through his shock, Philip look through his hand, the already transparent body part was slowly fading to nothing. 

“Son-“

“I have to hurry. I have to tell you something.” Philip’s tone was a little urgent, strange coming from the usually carefree boy. 

“Speak away, my boy.” Alexander allowed, his tone soft as he noticed his son slowly fading by the arm. He wanted to turn back time and stop his boy from leaving. He wished he had grabbed Philip by the arm and said let it be… He wished he had grabbed the arm that was now fading and stopped him from the duel.

Philip took a breath. Mr. Washington had warned the boy to be cautious and gentle about how he brought the next subject up because it was almost guaranteed that this topic was still a sore one. 

“It’s about the duel.” Philip said just as a precursor. Alexander visibly swallowed but nodded as an okay to continue. “Eacker… He shot before we got to 10… At 7 to be exact.” He spoke slowly to try and ease the topic on. No matter how gentle the topic was brought on, rage ran through Alexander.

Coward. Sickening. Weak. Pathetic. Cheat. All of those words surrounded the thought of George Eacker now. 

Cold, blinded rage was filling Alexander’s system but tears streamed down his cheeks. His emotions were a mess and he was on his knees. When he got there, he wasn’t sure but Philip was kneeled down with a hand rested on his dad’s shoulder. He felt it. Alexander could feel the hand. He quickly tugged his son into a tight hug, shoulder’s shaking with his sobs. 

Alexander’s thoughts were racing. /I should’ve stopped you. I shouldn’t have let you go. I should’ve gone with you. I love you. Please stay./ While those were his thoughts, the words slipped past his lips unintentionally. 

“Dad... It’s not your fault. It’s okay, Pops.” Philip whispered, voice strained with the tears he was holding back. He didn’t even know it was possible to cry when dead. They both sat, just holding eachother for a few more moments. Alexander was the first to notice his son’s body becoming less viewable. 

“No, nononono, stay, please.” His voice was pathetic and cracked as he pulled back to cup his son’s cheeks, “I love you, I love you so much. I’m so proud of you.” His voice was hurried as he said the words, wanting all of his praise to be heard and known that they were meant. 

Philip was a bit choked up as well. But he wasn’t finished. “I know, I know. I love you too… But you’ll see me again.” He took a pause for his dad to take a breath and calm down. “I promised Little Angie that I’d be there when she turned 21. I’m not breaking that.” Alexander froze when he realized what that entailed. 

“No, you can’t stay here… You have to pass on like John…” The father’s voice was still tainted with the cracked sound from just crying. Philip just shook his head, almost completely gone now. 

“I have to go… I'll always be here, over your shoulder like when I was little. I love you, Pops.”

“I love you too...” 

Philip’s lips moved but no words could be heard. He was drastically losing the energy to stay in contact with the real world. Alexander pulled his son close once again, hugging the boy’s head to his chest.   
“Oh… Philip.” Tears were now streaming freely from Alexander’s eyes. He wouldn’t be able to see or hear his son again for years. “When you smile I am undone… My son.” The last bit came out cracked as he tried to sing his son’s old lullaby once more. He couldn’t even get the verses out in the right order. “Pride is not the word I’m looking for… There is so much more inside me now…” His voice dropped and hiccuped with tears. 

“I swear that I’ll be around for you…” He sniffled. “I’ll do whatever it takes.” Alexander’s voice was interrupted by sharp gasps and sobs. /I’ll make the world safe and sound for you/. Remembering that line made his shoulders begin to violently shake with his sobs. 

His soft, tear filled, brown eyes opened to see his son was no longer in his arms. Tears stained his cheeks as he let his cries and sobs become verbal, his arms locked around his body and it took no longer than five minutes until he cried himself to sleep on his office floor.

**Author's Note:**

> I appreciate comments so much? Like wow. They made me so happy on my last work so those would be appreciated. Kudos too!


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